Devils Bride

Honoria clung to him; dazed, she followed his gaze.

From beyond the door came sounds of calamity-wails and recriminations exchanged between two maids- then Webster's sonorous tones cut across the commotion, bringing the plaints to an end. The sound of tinkling glass and the scrape of a whisk on the polished boards followed.

Honoria could barely make out the sounds over the thundering in her ears. Her heart thudded heavily; she had yet to catch her breath. Eyes wide, she looked into Devil's face-and saw the same driving desire, the same inchoate longing gripping her, reflected in his silvered eyes. Flames lit the crystal cores; sparks flew.

His breathing was as ragged as hers. Every muscle in his body was taut, coiled. Like a spring about to break.

'Don't-move.'

He bit the words out; his eyes blazed. Light-headed, barely able to drag in her next breath, Honoria didn't even think of disobeying. The planes of his face had never looked so hard, so graven. His eyes held hers steadily; she dared not blink as, rigid, he battled the force that threatened to consume them-the passion she had unleashed.

Degree by painful degree, the tension holding them decreased. His lids lowered, long lashes veiling the subsiding tempest. Gradually, his locked muscles eased; Honoria breathed again.

'The next time you do that, you'll end on your back.'

There was no threat in his words; they were a statement of fact.

Hedonistic, unpredictable-she'd forgotten about the wild. A peculiar thrill shot through Honoria, immediately swamped beneath a tide of guilt. She had seen the effort her naive tactic had cost him; remnants of their passion still shimmered about them, licking at her nerves, shivering over her skin. His lids slowly rose; she met his gaze unflinchingly.

And put up a hand to touch his cheek. 'I didn't know-'

Turbulence engulfed them as he brusquely drew back.

'Don't-' His features hardened; his gaze transfixed her. 'Go. Now.'

Honoria looked into his eyes-and obeyed. She stepped out of his arms; they fell from her but not readily. With one last, hesitant glance, she turned away; head high, shaken to her toes, she left him.

The three days that followed were the hardest Honoria had ever faced. Distracted, her nerves permanently on edge, her stomach a hard knot of reaction, she struggled to find some way out of the impasse that faced her. Hiding her state from the Dowager left her drained, yet being alone was not a desirable alternative; once free, her mind dwelled incessantly on what she had seen, what she had felt, what she had learned in the morning room.

Which only added to her distraction.

Her only consolation was that Devil seemed as distracted as she. By mutual consent, they met each other's eyes but briefly; each touch-when he took her hand or she placed it on his arm-rocked them both.

He'd told her from the first that he wanted her; she hadn't understood what he meant. Now she knew- instead of frightening her or shocking her, the physical depth of his need thrilled her. She gloried in it; at some fundamental level, her heart positively sang.

Which left her feeling exceedingly wary.

She was standing before her sitting-room window, mulling over her state, when a knock fell on the door.

Her heart skipped a beat. She straightened. 'Come.'

The door swung inward; Devil stood on the threshold. He raised a brow at her.

Honoria raised a brow back.

Lips thinning, he entered the room, shutting the door behind him. His expression was unreadable-not impassive so much as deliberately uninformative.

'I'm here to apologize.'

Honoria met his gaze steadily, certain the word 'apologize' rarely passed his lips. Her feelings took flight, only to plummet a second later. Her stomach hollow, her heart in her throat, she asked: 'For what?

His quick frown was genuinely puzzled, then it evaporated; his gaze grew hard. 'For appropriating Celestine's bill.' His tone made it clear that if she wished for an apology for what had transpired in the morning room, she'd be waiting until hell froze.

Honoria's unruly heart sang. She fought to keep a silly-totally unnecessary-smile from her lips. 'So you'll give me the bill?'

He studied her eyes, then his lips compressed. 'No.'

Honoria stared. 'Why apologize if you won't give me the bill?'

For a long moment, he looked at her, frustration seeping into his expression. 'I'm not apologizing for paying Celestine's account-I am apologizing for stepping on your independent toes-that was not my intention. But as you so rightly pointed out, the only reason such a bill would cross my desk was if you, as my wife, had referred it to me.' His lips twisted. 'I couldn't resist.'

Honoria's jaw nearly dropped; rescuing it in time, she swallowed a gurgle of laughter. 'You signed it… pretending to be my husband?' She had to struggle to keep a straight face.

The aggravation in Devil's eyes helped. 'Practicing to be your husband.'

Abruptly, Honoria sobered. 'You needn't practice that particular activity on my account. I'll pay my bills, whether I marry you or not.'

Her crisp 'or not' hung between them; Devil straightened and inclined his head. 'As you wish.' His gaze wandered to the landscape above the fireplace.

Honoria narrowed her eyes at his profile. 'We have yet to come to terms over this bill you inadvertently paid, Your Grace.'

Both description and honorific pricked Devil on the raw. Bracing one arm along the mantelpiece, he trapped Honoria's gaze. 'You can't seriously imagine I'll accept recompense-monetary recompense-from you. That, as you well know, is asking too much.'

Honoria raised her brows. 'I can't see why. If you'd paid a trifling sum for one of your friends, you'd allow them to repay you without fuss.'

'The sum is not trifling, you are not 'one of my friends,' and in case it's escaped your notice, I'm not the sort of man to whom a woman can confess to being conscious of owing every stitch she has on, to him, and then expect to be allowed to pay him back.'

Honoria's silk chemise suddenly grew hot; tightening her arms over her breasts, she tilted her chin. His conqueror's mask, all hard planes and ironclad determination, warned her she would win no concessions on that front. Searching his eyes, she felt her skin prickle. She scowled. 'You… devil!'

His lips twitched.

Honoria took two paces into the room, then whirled and paced back. 'The situation is beyond improper-it's outrageous!'

Pushing away from the mantelpiece, Devil raised an arrogant brow. 'Ladies who dice with me do find situations tend to end that way.'

'I,' Honoria declared, swinging to face him and meeting his eyes, 'am far too wise to play games with you. We need some agreement over this bill.'

Devil eyed her set face, and inwardly cursed. Every time he glimpsed a quick escape from the dilemma his uncharacteristically fanciful self-indulgence had landed him in, she blocked it. And demanded he negotiate. Didn't she realize she was the besieged and he the besieger? Evidently not.

From the moment he'd declared his intention to wed her, she'd flung unexpected hurdles in his path. He'd overcome each one and chased her into her castle, to which he'd immediately laid siege. He'd succeeded in harrying her to the point where she was weakening, considering opening her gates and welcoming him in-when she'd stumbled on his moment of weakness and turned it into a blunt weapon. Which she was presently wielding with Anstruther-Wetherby stubbornness. His lips thinned. 'Can't you overlook it? No one knows about it other than you and me.'